


you can see it with the lights out

by nowayout



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowayout/pseuds/nowayout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened because there isn’t one. It happened slowly, gradually, continuously, and maybe it started with the Hershey’s bar they shared on the first day of school, but back then Thomas didn’t know he could ever feel this way about a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can see it with the lights out

**Author's Note:**

> More fluff because I'm feeling really happy at the moment and I don't even know why. Inspired by Taylor Swift's absolutely stunning "You Are In Love," which is also where I stole the title from.

 

 

Thomas can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened because there isn’t one. It happened slowly, gradually, continuously, and maybe it started with the Hershey’s bar they shared on the first day of school, but back then Thomas didn’t know he could ever feel this way about a boy.

 

///

 

It takes him a while to understand that he’s expected to love people differently. That the affection he feels for his friends will morph into something else as he grows older and starts to notice long hair and full lips and the beginning of curves on bodies that are changing right before his eyes.

 

And he does, naturally. But he also notices Minho flexing his arms to show off his newfound muscles and Alby’s smooth dark skin and how ridiculously cute Newt looks scrunching up his nose and eyes when he laughs at one of Thomas’s dumb jokes.

 

By the time he’s thirteen and has to listen to his aunt point out once more that Teresa is _becoming so beautiful, isn’t she_ , he’s built up enough courage to agree that yes, Teresa is really pretty, and then show his aunt one of the two hundred pictures of Newt he has on his phone and say with all the confidence he can muster up that Newt is really pretty too.

 

///

 

(Love is:

 

– a mother admonishing her children for getting their brand-new clothes dirty before going to play with them in the mud, boundless adoration etched into each and every one of her features.)

 

///

 

He’s chasing Newt and Minho in the schoolyard, running around in figure eights that make him slightly dizzy. But he doesn’t stop and they don’t stop either, looking back at Thomas every now and then with laughter in their eyes and on their lips.

 

It’s only when he sees Newt starting to lag behind that he pushes himself to run a little faster, throwing his arms up and tackling Newt to the ground with a battle cry that turns into a defeated _oomph_ when they both land on the grass.

 

“You let me catch you.” He glares at the laughing boy trapped underneath him, but Newt keeps grinning and Thomas doesn’t know what to do other than pout and widen his eyes. He _is_ hurt, okay. He knows he can be as fast as Minho and Newt if he really, _really_ tries. He just – wasn’t trying. And he doesn’t want Newt to let him win.

 

Newt shakes his head, his grin still wide. “Nope. I most definitely did not. Caught me fair and square, Tommy,” he says, but his dark eyes are glinting with mischief and Thomas can’t help leaning down to nip at his nose.

 

Bursting into laughter again, Newt lets him get away with it. He lets Thomas get away with a lot.

 

///

 

(Love is:

 

– a father reading bedtime stories, turning into a valiant prince and a ruthless dragon and a fearless young lady every night, tucking his child into bed with a kiss and the promise of more adventures to come.)

 

///

 

It’s eleven-thirty and Newt is still helping Thomas study for his upcoming history quiz even though he hasn’t finished his English essay that is due tomorrow. Thomas feels equal parts guilty and grateful, but Newt keeps giving him a look that shuts him up immediately every time he mentions it and tells him to focus on memorizing dates. There are notes scattered all over the room and Thomas is paying more attention to his pillow than to the questions when he mumbles sleepily something about _from 1939 to 1945_ , tugging on Newt’s sleeve with his eyes closed and hoping to get his point across.

 

He can’t tell exactly how long it takes until Newt turns off the lights but it’s enough that he knows Newt must have been writing while Thomas was floating between not-asleep and not-awake, warm and comfortable.

 

He feels the mattress dip a minute later and he sighs happily, lips curving into an involuntary smile when Newt’s cold fingers brush against his hand for the briefest of seconds.

 

///

 

(Love is:

 

– attempting to organize a surprise birthday party when you can’t for the life of you keep a secret and not giving up because you know it will be worth it to see those dark brown eyes glinting with happiness.)

 

///

 

Alby and Gally take up football; Thomas and Minho make the track team. Newt can’t run with them any longer and things are not okay yet but they're getting better.

 

And it’s fun, because Newt comes to watch them train, Chuck tagging along more often than not, cheering from the empty bleachers that he’s going to fall flat on his face in _three, two, one, that’s it, Tommy!_

 

Thomas hears Minho’s unmistakable cackle somewhere in the distance as he wipes the dirty grass from his chin, and when he looks up he sees Newt and Chuck huddled together and laughing like Thomas hitting flat surfaces face-first is still something new and hilarious and not a daily occurrence.

 

There are memories that weigh all of them down, too recent and too heavy to brush off yet, but it’s moments like this that make them bearable, the sound of Newt’s loud, contagious laughter filling Thomas with golden warmth, blooming in his chest cavity and spreading through his veins until he feels sparks in his fingertips.

 

This is happiness, he realizes. It’s the feeling he gets watching a boy with a mop of unruly blond hair look up from helping Chuck with his homework every time Thomas glances at them, as if he knows, as if he can feel Thomas’s eyes on him. It’s the smile Newt sends his way. It’s the pleasure that envelops him when he sees that he can still make Newt look untroubled and cheerful after spending three months fearing that no one could ever do that again.

 

///

 

(Love is:

 

– having a Marvel vs. DC debate until three a.m. on a school night and waking up smiling four hours later despite not having reached a conclusion.)

 

///

 

Newt kisses him on a dare and Thomas’s heart skips a beat for every second during which their lips touch. It’s chaste, Newt’s lips pressed against his for what feels like only a moment, and it’s over before Thomas can wrap his head around what is happening.

 

And maybe his first thought is hey, we should do that again, but then he hears the others, laughing, cheering, and someone whistles because they’re a bunch of idiots – and he remembers that they’re not alone. Absolutely not alone. In fact, his girlfriend is sitting right next to him.

 

He turns to look at Teresa, torn between wanting to apologize and wanting to remind her that it was her idea in the first place, but he can’t even open his mouth to speak. Teresa looks at him the way she does sometimes, with soft eyes and a lenient smile, like she’s already understood something that’s going to take him a little longer to figure out.

 

“So, uh,” he starts, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “you don’t mind me kissing other people?”

 

Teresa rolls her pretty blue eyes at him and snorts. “It’s Newt,” is all she says, like that’s answer enough, like it’s supposed to mean something.

 

Thomas nods reluctantly, because it does somehow, it does mean something, but he can’t outright admit it, not now, not like this. It can’t be so easy. Nothing’s ever this simple.

 

“Well, yeah. But, like. Still,” he says very eloquently. From the corner of his eye he can see Minho, Alby and Gally shaking with silent laughter. He’s going to put vinegar in their drinks.

 

Teresa doesn’t even try to hide her amusement, throwing her head back and laughing heartily, but at least her voice is warm and loving when she coos, “Oh, Tom.”

 

The world starts making sense again only when Newt wraps his arms around Thomas, giggling into his neck like he’s in on the joke too, and Thomas –

 

Thomas didn’t think it was possible to feel like your heart could burst with happiness, but now he knows it is.

 

///

 

(Love is:

 

– holding a beautiful boy in your arms, crying because you never noticed that something made him feel like his life wasn’t worth living anymore, crying because now he’s bleeding, weeping, clinging to you like a child, and realizing that you can’t picture your life, your future, your entire goddamn world without him in it.)

 

///

 

It’s nearly midnight when Thomas sneaks out his window to find Alby’s car parked in his driveway. Newt is wearing Minho’s black leather jacket and leaning casually against the passenger side door with a cigarette dangling between his lips.

 

Thomas swallows back down the fond laughter that bubbles up in his throat at the sight of him, raising an eyebrow instead and nudging their shoulders together. “'Sup, James Dean, you steal Alby’s car?”

 

Newt grins at him, eyes crinkling up at the corners in amusement. He’s one of the two people who think Thomas actually has a sense of humor and doesn’t just embarrass himself trying to make jokes. The other one is Chuck. Thomas adores both of them with his whole heart.

 

“Yeah, Tommy, I stole the bloody thing with Alby’s permission,” Newt says with a wink, opening the car door for Thomas. “Now get in.”

 

Newt drives them up the small hill on the outskirts of the town, finding a spot from where they can look down at the bright lights making their little hometown glow, its hidden beauty coming out only in the darkness. Thomas is pretty sure he’s never really thought of this place as beautiful before. A sharp pang of sadness hits him then – hard, without warning. He wonders what else is right under his nose that he fails to see.

 

There’s a paper bag in the backseat that he can’t stop throwing glances at, which for some reasons seems highly amusing to Newt who starts snickering every time Thomas turns to look at it.

 

“Fine, you curious bugger, stop fidgeting,” Newt finally says, laughing when he grabs the bag and holds it out for Thomas to take it. “Fry baked it, I promise. The candle’s my only contribution.”

 

Thomas smiles down at the giant chocolate cupcake. _16_ is written on it in green frosting, a candle placed in the center – a silver one, the kind Thomas has been in love with since he was four.

 

“Happy birthday, Tommy,” Newt says, smiling softly with his lips and with his eyes, and Thomas – stupidly, impulsively, bravely – takes his hand and squeezes it, grinning unabashedly.

 

 _I love you_ , he thinks.

 

_iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou_

 

///

 

(Love is:

 

– sharing a hot chocolate on a cold November afternoon; sharing your dreams and hopes and fears with someone who is there to hold your hand when it’s difficult and when it isn’t, when the skies are grey and when the sun shines brighter than ever before.)

 

///

 

It’s Teresa’s fault, honestly. She’s on her fourth drink and still looks relatively sober, which is why Thomas decides to take the cup Gally keeps shoving into his chest and down the bitter liquid in one gulp. It’s a Friday night and Minho’s parents are out of town, the perfect opportunity to throw a party to celebrate their restless youth, Thomas thinks as he watches the people he’s known for years getting drunk on cheap alcohol, enjoying a few hours of bliss before the cold reality comes crashing back in on them.

 

Newt is in charge of the music tonight, but Alby and Minho seem to have ganged up on him, tickling him until he turns into a helpless giggly mess and agrees to play their favorite songs. And that’s when it hits Thomas. At two in the morning and halfway to getting drunk, while Teresa is happily dancing with Brenda and Frypan on the surprisingly sturdy coffee table in the living room, while the rest of the boys are playing beer pong in the kitchen, while Newt, Alby and Minho are pouring all their love into affectionate insults and sharp elbows shoved into ribs. At two in the morning Thomas realizes he’s an idiot.

 

He leaves the cup on the floor next to the couch and yes, he feels the earth move under his feet and his legs shake when he walks up to Newt, but the alcohol has nothing to do with it.

 

“Alright, Tommy?” Newt asks grinning once Thomas is close enough that he doesn’t have to shout to make himself heard.

 

And Thomas nods, taking one step forward, then another, and another, until he’s invading Newt’s personal space. He cups Newt’s face with anxious hands that suddenly feel too big, too clumsy, waiting for a sign, for Newt to reject him. But Newt just smiles, smiles lovingly, like he knows, like he’s known all along, like he was only waiting for Thomas to catch up.

 

“I’m in love with you,” Thomas blurts out and a wave of happiness crashes over him. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a really long time.”

 

“Finally,” Minho and Alby sigh simultaneously.

 

Thomas would gladly give them the middle finger if he didn’t have more important matters to attend to, but Newt is pulling him closer and pressing their lips together.

 

///

 

(Love is:

 

– everything about this very moment.)

 

///

 

For Thomas, love is what he feels when he watches Newt take out a black velvet box from the pocket of his jeans.

 

Love is what he feels when he hears his friends clapping and cheering like they did the first time he and Newt kissed.

 

Love is what he felt when a seven-year-old blond boy offered to share his Hershey’s bar with him and love is what he feels twenty years later.

 

Love is what he feels when, in a shaky voice that vibrates with happiness, he says _yes_.

 


End file.
